


Stars Above Us

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Waterways [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Death, Merperson Connor, References to Mutilation, Romance, Selkie Hank, Shark Hank, transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Hank thought he'd never know happiness again after he lost his son and his sealskin. He's never been so glad to be proven wrong.





	Stars Above Us

**Author's Note:**

> a sneaky little continuation for ya. ;) should clear up a few little bits, too.

Arguably the most foolish thing Hank has ever done is to set foot on land. He’d done many a great reckless and foolish thing in his youth, but who hadn’t? Things like straying too close to the surface or baiting humans with thrown rocks and oddly placed ripples. Hank had been one of many to play those games, to break the surface where any human might see, then dive below the surface before he could be spotted. He was foolish to think his own child might want to do otherwise. 

Cole had been… Perfect. In every way. From the tips of his hair to the ends of his fins he had been utterly, wholly perfect. Bright, cheerful, inquisitive. He had been Hank’s light and joy. His pride. 

Had been. 

So many nights Hank had stood on the very shore he lost his son on. Could remember the way he writhed, the sounds of his screams in the night. He’d never forget. It haunted his waking moments. Sometimes his mind would trick him and he’d swear he could still see blood staining the sand, sweeping through the water in cloudy spirals. Those nights were the hardest. When Hank wanted to disappear back into the water and swim far, far away. 

But he couldn’t. 

He’d been stuck here for years, pining both for his son and the sea, caught in an agonising limbo where he could have neither. He’d followed the cruel humans onto the sand, had cast away his sealskin without a second thought to strike them down with all the fury of a grieving father. And what good had it done? Their spilt blood wouldn’t bring Cole back. And as penitence for his crimes he’d lost his only tie to the sea. He’d been stranded, trapped. Stuck between here and there with nowhere to go. 

Even standing with the water washing over bare feet was too painful so he stayed far away from the shores edge, electing to watch from further inland. It was the closest he could get without overwhelming himself with grief, even with the faint ache of it lodged firmly and inescapably in his chest. 

He’d not known what else to do. The only things he new about his kind who were stranded on land were that they soon perished. Stories told to guppies and pups to make them behave and go to sleep when their parents told them to. He’d never set much store by it, never paid it any mind until it happened to him. He hadn’t even expected to reach the humans who took Cole away. When he had, and they’d paid for his son’s life with their blood, Hank felt more lost than ever. His ache for revenge had still not been satisfied. 

So what to do? Homeless, penniless, ignorant of humans and their customs and wanting nothing to do with them but cursed with a natural instinct to survive above all else. Where could he go? What could he do? Was there even a place for him on land among these cruel dry creatures with their bloodlust and hatred for anything different?

No, was the answer. But Hank found a place anyway, even if he had to change somewhat to do it. 

Wrapping himself in his sealskin had been easy. He’d done it a handful of times in his younger days, of course when he’d gone to the land to find a mate and had been blessed with Cole. Sweeping the heavy fur and skin round his shoulders, feeling it meld with his body, altering him deep in his soul, opening his lungs to the water and releasing him from the clumsy, two-legged body. That had been easier than gliding through the water. And so Hank wrapped himself in a human guise. Became the thing humans wanted him to be. Became brash and angry, bitter and reticent. Not so much of a stretch of his natural state, the anger and the grief. He cloaks himself with it, uses it. Makes a place for himself in their cold, harsh world. 

He was not expecting them, when they found him. 

He was hungry, cold and tired, squatting in an abandoned house when they came for him, and he gathered himself, tensed, ready to fight. But he saw something in their eyes that made him pause. Something familiar and haunting at the same time. He recognised them without their sealskins, knew who they are intrinsically without asking. 

His kin. 

They took him in without a question, only asking enough to ascertain his health and wellness. He’d been starving and sick with fever and they clothed him and fed him, tended him until his strength returned after weeks in the cold and the damp. He learned their names slowly, Ben, Chris and Gavin. Creatures like him, stranded on land, but by there own choice. 

Ben explained, in soft, haunted words, how he had seen his family captured off the coastline, how the humans had killed and captured the children of his shoal without a thought. He’d told Hank of the rage and the pain he’d felt, how he had wanted to follow and rip them apart. Hank understood all too well that burning fire that had drawn him to the shore for blood. 

But Ben hadn’t made it that far. He’d found that humans kept their kind for entertainment, for pleasure. That they were nothing but playthings for them. And so Ben had searched for others, those like him who chose to live and love on land, had reached out to them for aid. To free those who had been stolen from the sea. To return them home, away from the leering eyes and harsh hands of the humans that sought to own them. 

Hank listened to each of their tales, saddened by every murmured word and enraged by others. He listened as Chris spoke of his mate, taken away from him and his son. He listened as Gavin bit out a clipped tale of his own lost mate before stalking away to nurse his pain like a wounded animal. And Hank understood. He recognised that rage and that agony, felt it constantly inside his own heart. So when the time came, he could to nothing else other than offer his help, should they need it. 

And when they called on him, Hank was there, ready and willing. Eager to assist and free his kin. Though the sealkind were not the only captives of the humans. Other merfolk, cousins to his kind, the creatures with long tails and glittering scales, with only one form and no cloaks to shed. Hank had seen many of them caught in human cages. Half-mad from captivity, some decaying and dying. And with his brothers at his back, they had freed as many as they could. It felt wonderful to finally be serving a purpose not drenched with blood. Guided by righteousness and not revenge. 

With time, Hank even stopped missing his own sealskin. How could he when he had so much to do on land? He banished it from his thoughts, pushed down the longing and regret, forced himself not to miss it. 

Until he saw brown eyes glinting at him from behind the glass between them, a beautiful creature with silver scales and delicate blue fins. Hank could not remember ever being so entranced by such a sight in all his life. Not since he first held Cole in his arms, though the reasons are vastly different. This ethereal creature, held against his will, caught as a guppy and taken away from the stars that he loved. Hank felt a fierce surge of protection course through him he hadn’t felt in years. 

He payed his part well, feigned the confusion, the bewilderment, all to plan as it always was. It felt awful to deceive the creature, Connor, as he had told him, but Hank had to ensure everything went according to the carefully laid plans. Everything could go wrong otherwise, and Connor would never see the stars again. So Hank played the part of the haggard security guard, entranced by the mystical creature heard of only in human stories. It wasn’t hard to pretend to be captivated by Connor’s beauty. That, at least, was honest. 

The plan itself relied on patience and careful structure. The wait was long and usually arduous, but Ben’s strategies had never yet led them astray. Hank had always been content to follow along and do as he was instructed. 

Until the bastards cut Connor open, stole his eggs, left him bleeding. 

And suddenly all that pain, all that rage, it burned hotter than it ever had. The flames of it  _roared_  and Hank was powerless against it. He couldn’t hold back if he wanted to and, if he had his way, breaking Connor out of that tank would come with as many casualties as Hank could cause. 

It didn’t. Ben would never have allowed it. The kindest of them all, the most righteous, wanted no blood on their hands. Hank didn’t care, his were already stained long ago, but Ben wanted as much peace as they could muster. So Hank obeyed, this last time, to free Connor and return him to the sea. 

That, more than anything, hurt. Parting from the creature, sending him away to be free when Hank couldn’t follow? That was something sharp in his stomach. The others saw it in him, recognised the sadness that came with the bitter sorrow of parting, but none of them spoke of it. Hank had made a promise he could never keep. A promise to return to Connor, that this hadn’t been goodbye. How could he honour that now? He had no sealskin. No way to return. 

Until Gavin had given him a gift. 

He approached in the night, a soft knock on Hank’s door, slipping in when permitted. He spoke little, only placing something down on Hank’s bedside table and murmuring that he had more use for it that Gavin ever would. When he had left, Hank reached for the thing left on the table, eyes widening in shock. 

He’d left without a goodbye, only a hastily scribbled note of thanks. He’d never run so far and so fast, all the while clutching that small, impossible thing so tightly in his hand it bit into his skin. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs aches. He ran until the sea loomed before him, sapphire in the night and endlessly beautiful. 

And for the first time in years, Hank kicked away his shoes and stepped into the loam, sighing softly at the cool wash of water over his skin. Under the moonlight he opened his palm, the pristine shark tooth glinting against his skin. He lifted it, holding the foot between thumb and forefinger and, with the force and confidence born of years of desperation, plunged the tooth into the hollow of his throat. 

It felt different, wilder, to wrapping himself in his cloak. This transformation burst out of him, feral, hungry, eager to be released. He was swept along bodily as his legs fused and his lungs burned with icy fire. He felt fins rip from his body in places they never had before, felt bones crack and ripple in strange, foreign places. 

When he fell into the water, it felt raw and untamed, like something inside him had finally broken free of chains and was surging into life with a frenzied desire. 

Hunter. He felt it in every fibre of his being. Where before he had been sealkind, now he was changed. Sharklike, predatory. Fast and deadly. 

This felt  _right._

And under all the fierce energy and wildness cane the thrumming sense of pure  _joy._ He was home. And he had a mate to find. 

-

“You’re so dramatic,” Connor says, sprawled across a jagged outcrop, tail swaying lazily through the water. His scales glint attractively in the sunlight and Hank can’t stop tracing them with his fingertips. 

“So?” He grins, all sharp teeth and charm. “It was a dramatic story. It deserved a bit of flair.” He traces up the front of Connor’s tail, fingers brushing over the faint scar left behind by the cruelty of humanity. “And you asked to hear it.  _Again.”_

“I like how you tell it.”

“I tell it  _dramatically_ _._ ”

“Oh, shush, you know what I mean.” With a neat dive, Connor leaves the outcrop, slicing neatly beneath the water with barely a splash. Hank laughs and dives under the water to follow him, gills streaming bubbles as he pushes the water from his lungs. It’s a race and Connor still likes to pretend he can win, though Hank has the sheer power of a predator on his side. They glide together through the blue, Connor’s sinuous tail undulating as he moves, twisting and turning as he rides the currents from the sea bed.

Hank has never loved to fiercely. He enjoys their game, the chase and the capture, and he swirls in glorious tandem with his mate through sun-warmed water until the urge to claim is too great and he catches Connor in strong arms, tails twining together as Connor trills happily in response. They kiss softly, Connor’s skin heated by excitement and sun, and Hank feels that bone deep joy thrum through his body at the contact. 

“My love,” Connor murmurs, hands curled in Hank’s hair, tenderness a perfect ache between them. “Can we watch the stars tonight?”

“Every night until the end of time,” Hank promises, kissing pale knuckles, one after the other. “You look beautiful in starlight.”

Connor smiles, eyes glittering and full of coy mischief. “Tell me another story,” he commands, tugging Hank towards their little secluded grotto. Hank had laboured over it for countless tide shifts, selecting only the finest stones and prettiest gems he could find until he’d crafted the perfect nest for his beloved. 

Hank lets himself be pulled along until they’re hidden away from all the world, safe in their den together. Connor coils coquettishly on the soft sea moss of their nest, fins twitching enticingly. Hank grins a smile full of dark promise and curls around him, tails twining as he pulls Connor against him. 

“How about,” he murmurs into the elegant curve of Connor’s neck, “I show you instead?” He catches skin gently between his teeth, delighting in the hitched gasp that sends bubbles rippling from Connor’s fills. The water round them heats as they move together, until Hank is unsheathed and burning with want and Connor takes him slowly inside himself, effervescent with desire. 

“Hank,” Connor sighs, hands clutching the broadness of his shoulders. Hank gathers him close, lost to sensation, holding tight to that which he loves so dearly until together, in their own tender world, they find their pleasure and their peace. 


End file.
